Redman - Rollin' lyrics

rate me

Nineteen ninety mother fuckin six

That's that shit though

Get the motherfuckin squad packed

We got to pull these shoes out like carpetword is bond

Test the crew with the guns and let's get this shit on

Whymust I be like that? whymust I pack the gat?

On my leftniggaz be rollin with the ruckus

Ready to get deep bust rounds upon some suckaz

Heard ppp and lod is a bunch of crazy motherfuckers

Journey to the land is on

The winner of the spittin bomb marathon

The fuck you up lyrathonwhatever you choose

Prepare to lose that title

Turnin vital situations suicidalmy idolsis my uncles

Who started smokin weed outta bibles

Gave me a puff when I bust my first rifle

Men-estration cyclesI give bitches

Bring your craziest niggaI'll give stitches

Whatevago crew for crewblow for blow

Bang your headpiece and sniff the snow off your hoe

I keep it rollin...

Ask yourself man

How ugly do you have to be to be a hardcore mc?

Niggaz be fooled by my plaques and my light skin complexture

My whole texture is bombindestroyin da schools of the wack

From the land of the lostyou get tossed

Listen to my veloc(ity)my crew's comin off

Yeahmore sneaky than casino switches

Diggin ditches for all moskino bitches

Clockin decimal figuresI'm gettin out diggers

Now my choice of truck is a land

Cause a landcruise much bigger

It pack two to three more niggaz

Damn I hate a golddigger

Yeahgimme that microphone

I make opponents shit bricks like tyson's home

I keep the jacked cellular phone blown in three zones

Love seafood and keep my nine millimis chrome

So it can shine up your dome

When I proceed to give you what you need and clear spots like sea breeze

Wreckin your ass armaggedeon style

Twenty four seven while

My crew chin check your profile

(rollin...)

I'm the master of disastersuper rhyme maker

Grimy by naturedatabase maker

Play em out like segasaturn

Blow your blocks in patterns for about nine acres

Testescrew wearin bulletproof and double s's

Karl kani downcamoflouge can't hide the sounds

Of a fo' pound (boo-yaa)

Givin you six flagsbustin merry go rounds

But my crew stay ill with that unreal appeal

I be the raw watermy cheek bones outta have gills

Below like the opera

Smooth on the trigger for all you block cockers

I be the key to criminology

Blast and rotate enemies at three buck sixty

Pick meas your senator

Take the dove from your battlefield sonfuck pat benatar

Runhead for the hills

Back in the daythese niggaz rolled up on me with

The trunk filled with bomber brooklynssheeps and quartervilles

Aiyyo take that shitaiyyo money snap the grill

Body caught chills as he ate this nine mil

Mine kills two but my nine was sign sealed

And ready to deliverbut money had me too close

To reach for toastsoon as that nigga blink I broke ghost

Dash back to south orange ave with dollar bill to smoke dope

I keep em rollin...

This is dj say what? ? on this motherfucker

Sayin the dick is longbut my time is short

Before I gojust remember

If your box ain't on fds radioyou're fuckin up